Moments
by Frankie in Like
Summary: A collection of scenes/shorts/deleted scenes from the lives of the main characters from An Uneasy Alliance & The Things We Carry. It's recommended to read AUA & TTWC along with this supplemental story.
1. Blood Magic, Hope

**Author's Note: **Moments is a collection of scenes from the lives of various characters from An Uneasy Alliance that do not fit smoothly into the main story, but I feel should be recorded somewhere as they are either important, adorable, emotional, or simply moving in some way. (It's also a great way for me to combat writer's block, or simply procrastinate, heehee)

Each 'chapter' is an independent piece that will have a short summary to explain briefly what it's about and where in the timeline of the fic it belongs. Technically Moments can be read without reading An Uneasy Alliance, and AUA can certainly be read without this, but it is recommended you _do_ read both, as they are supplements to each other and the two of them together more fully enhance the experience of the story.

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><p><strong>Blood Magic... Hope<strong>

_"Are there, infinitely varying with each individual, inbred forces of Good and Evil in all of us, deep down below the reach of mortal encouragement and mortal repression - hidden Good and hidden Evil, both alike at the mercy of the liberating opportunity and the sufficient temptation?"_

_-Wilkie Collins, No Name  
><em>

**Summary:** Back in the Circle Tower, Jowan discovers he _does_, in fact, have a talent. Takes place before the events in An Uneasy Alliance and Dragon Age: Origins.

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><p>Blood dripped from the small cut on his finger, and as he let a few words flow from his lips he could feel the power radiating from it. The words were easy to remember, easy to say, unlike his other attempts at magic which were always a struggle. Somehow, for some reason, when he spoke to his blood, it was like it <em>sang<em> for him, and he could do nothing wrong. It was a new feeling for him, to do something right.

With a small flicking movement the blood splattered onto the rat that he had distracted with a piece of bread in front of him, and as he murmured a few more words, the beady-eyed creature jerked, letting out a small squeal. His forehead creased and he felt his own body weakening slightly as his power poured out his finger and into the blood he dripped on the animal.

After a few more spasms, the rat stood perfectly still, eyes strangely blank and bread forgotten. The mage apprentice thought of a command in his mind, and the creature obeyed, doing a spin in place. He smiled, and thought another command, watching proudly as the rat ran in a circle around him before stopping and sitting up on its haunches.

He… he could actually do it! For once he managed to do a spell correctly, and on the first try, no less! He felt a rush of giddiness and pride he had never felt before – all of his training in the Circle had always felt like a frustrating repetition of failures and reprimands. He wasn't like his friend, who seemed to be good at everything she tried, no; he wasn't a good mage at all. Or, at least, he hadn't been a good mage until now...

He smiled down at the rat, who was still standing on its haunches and staring blankly at nothing, its free will completely gone. "Thank you, little friend," he murmured, giving the creature a soft pat on the head before he consciously willed the creature free from his enchantment. But the rat didn't scamper off unharmed as he had expected. With an agonized squeal, the creature twisted this way and that, and blood began seeping from its ears, its mouth, its eyes, and as he watched in horror the animal gave one last pained jerk before it fell to the ground, dead.

Jowan stared down at the rat in horror. He hadn't wanted to _kill_ the thing; he had merely wanted to try this new magic he had stumbled across… He felt a rush of guilt for the poor animal, but it was quickly lost as he heard footsteps outside the small supply closet he was crouching in. With a mental curse at his lack of attentiveness, he stood and pulled a handkerchief from a pocket, frantically wiping the blood from his hand and the floor before he wiped it from the rat as best he could and pushed it underneath a shelf. Hopefully whoever came across it would think it had died of natural causes.

As he stuffed his handkerchief back into his pocket, Jowan opened the door to the supply closet and nearly had a heart attack when he saw Knight-Commander Greagoir standing outside the door, his cold gray eyes now fixed on the mage apprentice.

"Apprentice Jowan." Greagoir's voice was as cold as his eyes, and firmer besides.

Jowan swallowed, trying not to look guilty, "Knight-Commander," he greeted with a feeble nod, standing up straighter and hoping the shrewd man didn't see the sweat on his brow and the nervousness in his eyes.

Greagoir stared at him silently for a moment before his eyes shifted to the closed door behind Jowan. "What could you possibly have to do in a supply closet, Apprentice?" he asked, suspicion rife in his voice.

The seventeen year-old tried to shrug nonchalantly, but it ended up looking like a sort of cringe, "Senior Enchanter Leorah asked me to fetch her some spider poison, they ran out downstairs," he lied with an ease that surprised him, "She says they've been getting numerous lately."

The Knight-Commander frowned at him, then waved a hand, "Begone, then," he grunted, and Jowan nodded again before scampering down the hall. He didn't see Greagoir watching his retreating back with narrowed eyes, and he didn't see the older man step towards the supply closet with distrust filling his gaze.

. . . . .

"Oh, shut up, Jowan, you'll be just fine," Tori rolled her eyes at him, lightly slapping his arm and grinning when he frowned at her.

"It's not funny," he whined, rubbing his arm where she'd hit him. It hadn't hurt him, but he liked to complain whenever she got physical with him, it was a habit that still remained from when they were children. "This exam is really important,; Jarvey said that if you don't pass they make you Tranquil!"

Toriana sighed and shook her head, "Jowan, Jarvey will tell you anything if he thinks it'll make you fret like this. You know how much of an ass he is."

Jowan couldn't keep the wry smile from his face at hearing his friend insult Jarvey – who was always taking advantage of Jowan's gullibility, and he didn't like him one bit. "Yeah, you're right," he admitted, shuffling through the pile of books they had gathered on their study table in the library. His good mood soon left, however, and he frowned at the books, "But still, this is serious. First Enchanter Irving told us how important it was that we practice and study hard for this. You know I'm useless when it comes to this stuff... what if I fail? What does that mean for me?"

Tori's brows knitted as she looked at her best friend beside her. "Jowan, listen," she put a hand on his arm and turned him to face her, her expression serious. "You are _not_ useless, and if I hear you say it one more time I'll set your hair on fire. Don't laugh," she said quickly, holding a finger in the air when she saw he was starting to grin again, "I'm serious. If you're really this worried about the exam, then we'll pull an all-nighter tonight, and tomorrow night if you want, and I'll help you out."

As Jowan stared down into those large brown eyes, regarding him with gravity and compassion, he felt a rush of affection for the girl who had been his best friend ever since they had come to the Tower. "Tori, thank you!" He smiled brightly at her and pulled her into a bear hug before he felt a glint of mischievousness and used his magic to form a small ball of ice, dropping it down the back of her robes. Tori squealed and squirmed out of his grasp, trying to scowl at him but ruining her attempt at a menacing look by laughing as she clawed at the back of her robe, trying to get the ice out.

Once she had rescued herself, she dropped back into her chair and lifted her nose at the madly grinning boy beside her, giving him an icy look and looking rather strikingly like an incensed noblewoman, "Apprentice Jowan, you are lucky I am not a violent person, or I would be making a roast out of you this instant."

Jowan's eyes widened and his grin disappeared, "You wouldn't really, Tori..."

After a moment she laughed, the mask of coldness gone, unable to stay mad at her friend for more than a few moments. Jowan looked relieved as he chuckled with her, "Don't do that," he whined, his smile ruining his pleading look, "You'll give me a heart-attack one of these days, you will."

Tori shrugged and grinned, "Nothing you won't deserve," she teased as she grabbed the top book on the pile and opened it in front of them. She dropped the smile and turned serious, "Alright, we need to get started. You've read _The Annals of Magic_, right?" At his blank look, she sighed, rubbing a hand over her face, "I don't know why I bothered to ask," she muttered.

This was going to be a long night.

. . . . .

"Don't fear the fire, Jowan! You have nothing to fear but fear itself!"

Jowan scowled at Tori across the room as she repeated the mantra of one of the Enchanters. "Don't fear the fire, you have nothing to fear but fear itself," he mimicked her under his breath in a high-pitched voice, making a face in her direction that she couldn't see from the distance.

"And stop mocking me!" she reprimanded, as if she could read minds, but it was more that she knew her friend well enough to guess when he was making faces at her.

He didn't answer except to stick his tongue out at her. "Are we going to try again or not?" he called out.

Tori waved her hands in a complex pattern in front of her, and Jowan could feel the magic building in her small body, even from this distance. Sweat was building on his forehead, but he tried to swallow his anxiety and calm his mind, thinking only of the shield he was going to put up. He tried to focus on the weave of magic that would create the shield, the currents and eddies that would block the fire from reaching him, but the knowledge slipped away and he found his mind blank.

His friend's hands were engulfed in flame now, only seconds from throwing the ball at him, and he swore. He was sick of being singed by flames, of seeing the disappointment in Tori's eyes – as much as she tried to hide it, he could still see it – he was sick of being a screwup, a failure.

Without thinking, he put one finger in his mouth and bit down until he felt a prick of pain and the metallic tang of blood on his tongue. He didn't know what he was doing, but when he saw the ball of fire leave Tori's hands and come straight for him, he didn't think, only held his hand out and the strange, foreign words fell from his lips as if they had been planted there.

A strange red-white glow engulfed him, and he gasped as he felt his body weakening even as his magic grew stronger, far stronger than it had ever been before. The Arcane Shield he had struggled for the last half an hour to erect was now glowing about him, as strongly as any shield Tori had ever cast, a Fade-reminiscent purple that was run through with faint swirls of red. The fire engulfed the shield for a moment, warming the air around him, but Jowan remained untouched, unharmed, and as the flames melted away he let his shield drop, closing his connection to the Fade and stumbling to his knees as his strength left him.

Toriana ran to his side, a concerned look on her face, "Are you alright?" she asked, putting an arm under his to help him to his feet.

Jowan quickly hid his slowly bleeding hand in the sleeve of his robes and nodded with a weak smile, "Yeah, I'm fine. Guess I'm just getting tired from all this practice."

Tori frowned and guilt clouded her features, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to push you so hard, I just thought..." She trailed off, then suddenly she clapped a hand on her friend's shoulder, a proud grin lighting up her features. "But you did it, Jowan! That shield was perfect!"

He could feel a grin mirroring her own pulling his lips up, and the rush of pride he felt to hear her praising him was... exhilarating. "Thirtieth time's the charm," he joked, and the two shared an amicable chuckle.

"Come on, let's go get some dinner, I'd say you've more than earned it," Tori smiled and started leading him out of the training room, her arm looped through his. When they went through the door Jowan glanced at the helmeted Templar standing just inside, but he could see no indication that the man had noticed what sort of magic he had just used, and since Jowan hadn't been run through with a sword yet, he figured he'd gotten away with it.

As the two inseparable friends made their way towards the dining hall arm-in-arm, Tori chatting excitedly away about the newest book Irving had lent her (which Jowan thought sounded _horrendously_ boring), he couldn't keep a sigh of relief from escaping. He had done it, he had put up a proper shield, and all it had taken was just a little bit of blood...

He would have to be careful with this new-found talent. If anyone were to catch him using blood magic, he would be dead.

But if he was careful enough, maybe, just maybe, he could one day be as good of a mage as Tori was...


	2. The Tower

**The Tower**

_"Jails and prisons are designed to break human beings, to convert the population into specimens in a zoo - obedient to our keepers, but dangerous to each other."_

_-Angela Davis_

**Summary:** Toriana learns the harsh truth of the Tower: it is a prison. But even a prison can hold some light, some comfort.

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><p>The little girl was confused. She was not scared, no, just… confused. Her daddy was crying, she had never seen him cry before, and her mom was standing there, staring at her with such empty eyes, no longer full of warmth, just empty. Tori wondered if she had done something wrong when she showed them the new trick she had learned all by herself, where she made her hands glow blue.<p>

She did not understand who the men were, the ones who had come into her home with their big, shiny armor and stern faces, but she _did_ understand that they were taking her away. Little Tori did not cry, not at first. When one of the men lifted her into his arms, she twisted to look at her daddy, holding her arms out and calling to him – she liked it much better when he held her, he didn't wear such uncomfortable armor that dug into her side, and his smile always cheered her up.

Her daddy gathered himself and went to her, asking the men for "just a little more time with her." The man holding her did not look happy, but eventually he handed the little six year-old over and told him in an unyielding voice, "Five minutes."

Tori's daddy was the most handsome man she ever knew, his hair was just the same color of hers, his eyes were the color of the sky, and his short beard tickled her neck when he hugged her tight. When he loosened his grip and looked at her, his eyes were wet and red and that scared her. Daddy wasn't afraid of anything. "You be strong for me, okay?" He told her, running a hand over her hair, tied up in little pigtails.

Tori frowned, "I don't want to go with these men, daddy, I want to stay here with you," she whispered so the men wouldn't hear. "They won't play mabari hunters with me, and that one smells like onions," she pointed at the man who had held her, who apparently had heard her because he looked even more irritated than before.

Her daddy gave her a fond, if weak, smile and pressed a kiss to her cheek, "My little lynx," he said fondly, as he always called her when she was being stubborn or sly. "My smart, pretty, brave little lynx. You'll make friends, don't worry, I'm sure you'll find other kids your age to play—" his voice broke and he pulled her into another hug so she wouldn't see the tears spilling from his eyes.

But if she couldn't see the tears, she could sense them, and now she wrapped her little arms around his neck and hugged him, as if _she_ could comfort _him_. "I'll come back, daddy," she whispered in his ear, conspiratorially, "Don't worry."

That stung him, and as he kissed his daughter's forehead for the last time, Tori's daddy's heart broke.

As the man that smelled like onions carried her out of the sitting room of her home, Tori looked over his shoulder at her mom and daddy. Her daddy had fallen into a chair and had his face buried in his hands, and her mom… Her mom just watched her go, looking ghostly with empty eyes and a blank face, hands trembling like leaves in the wind.

. . . . .

The man who smelled like onions did not like her. When she started crying and asking for her daddy, he glared at her and told her to shut her mouth. She hiccupped and continued to cry, but silently, from her perch in front of onion man on his huge, scary-looking horse that snorted and kicked at the ground. They were riding beside River Dane, the river she liked to swim in when it was hot out, but they were farther up the river than she had ever been before.

One of the other men, riding beside onion man's horse, turned and smiled a small smile at her, "Do you like stories?" he asked her in a friendly voice that she instantly liked. Tori nodded slowly, shyly. The young man – the youngest of the group, it seemed – smiled even wider, "Want to hear the Ode to Bees?"

Tori was curious, she had never heard this ode before, and she nodded as she wiped the tear trails from her cheeks. The young man held his hand out to her and she stared at it, unsure what he wanted. When he waved his hand at her and gave her an encouraging nod, she suddenly understood, and placed her tiny hand in his large, rough one. With an ease that startled her, he hefted her out of onion man's saddle and settled her in his.

"My name is Ser Henric," he said in a gentle voice, "What's yours?"

"Toriana Amell," she replied, turning in the saddle to smile shyly up at Ser Henric, "I want to hear the ode," she said, giving him her best version of her 'lynx kitten eyes', her father called them, which she used when she wanted something.

Ser Henric grinned in a goofy way that made her giggle, "Yes, of course, the Ode to Bees."

As she settled back against the armored chest of Ser Henric and listened as he spoke the Ode to Bees, Tori decided perhaps this wasn't _too_ bad. She did not like riding horses, and this Ser Henric was certainly not her daddy, but he was nice enough, and he had saved her from onion man – at least for now. Maybe she could use her lynx kitten eyes on him and get him to take her back to daddy, and then he could stay and tell more odes and stories for them.

. . . . .

"Do you know how to play mabari hunters?"

Toriana smiled in as friendly a way as she could at the boy who was her same age, sitting on the bed across from hers. He did not look at her, just kept staring at his feet in a sad way, "No."

Tori frowned at him, but was determined to try to make a new friend and be strong, like her daddy had told her to be. "I can teach you, it's really fun." She made her voice as friendly and encouraging as she could.

The boy, with messy black hair and a pale face, glanced at her, and she could see he was about to cry, "I dun wanna play, I wanna go home," he whispered, in a low-bred, poor Fereldan accent (her mom had taught her the differences between the high-class and low-class, in the way they look and speak).

She felt bad for him, because she felt the same way and she knew how it was to miss your family and your home. She had only been at the Tower for a couple of days and already she decided she did not like it and would much prefer to go home. But after the first time she asked one of the Templars (the stern-faced men with the shiny armor, she learned) to go home, he had snapped at her and shouted, and made her cry. She was determined not to complain about it again. She would be brave; she would make her daddy proud, and maybe then he would come and save her from this dreary place.

"Well…" she began, "Maybe if we play, it will make the time go faster, and we can go home sooner." She slid off her bed and climbed onto his bed, kneeling in front of him, "And mabari hunters is a really fun game, I think you'll like it."

The boy stared at her for a long time with large eyes only a few shades darker than her own. Finally, he murmured, "Jowan."

She grinned at him, "Hi Jowan, I'm Tori." And like a lady, like her mother had taught her, she held out her hand for him to kiss. Jowan did not kiss her hand, he took it and shook it, as if she were a boy, and she wanted to grimace but held it back. She didn't want to be mean to her new friend, after all.

. . . . .

As the days passed, Toriana realized that her daddy would not be coming to take her back home. She and Jowan clung to each other as they learned the ways of their new home, attended difficult lessons and walked through halls lined by silent, stern-faced Templars. While the two were very different, they took solace in knowing they were each as scared and confused and homesick as the other, and before long they were nearly inseparable.

Jowan was a timid boy, prone to complaining and whining but with a soft and gentle heart. Toriana was a bright and sunny girl, with a stubborn streak and a tendency to daydream. He taught her – going against what her mother had always told her – that class and breeding did not mean anything when it came to character, that the poor were just the same as the rich, only made different by circumstance. She taught him to open up, to stand up for himself more, and to have more confidence in himself. While it was clear from the start that she had more magical potential than him, she refused to leave her friend behind, always helping him and egging him on.

They were inseparable indeed, two friends whose lives were both torn apart and recreated by the Tower.


	3. She doesn't like me

**Author's Note:** So in this story, Tori meets Lily before the events in Origins. The way I tell the story, she and Jowan are just too close of friends for him to not introduce them before then. And so we have this short, which takes place a few months before the first events in Origins.**  
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><p><strong>She doesn't like me<strong>

**Summary:** When Tori and Lily first met, they don't exactly get along... And now poor Jowan is the one who has to attempt to calm the two willful girls down and try to keep the peace.

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><p>"She doesn't like me."<p>

Jowan winced and looked guiltily at Lily, who was sitting next to him in one of the empty Chantry pews with a copy of the Chant of the Light in her hands so any passerby would think it was merely an innocent discussion between initiate and apprentice about the Maker. "It's not that she doesn't _like_ you, she just…" he trailed off, not sure exactly what to say to diffuse the annoyance in the redhead's beautiful hazel eyes.

"Doesn't think I'm _good_ enough for you, probably. No, I think I understand _perfectly_." Lily sniffed and folded her arms, the disdain and hurt obvious in her voice.

Jowan grimaced and wanted to put a hand on hers, but was afraid someone might see it and so kept his hands anxiously wringing in his lap. "It's not like that, Lily, we're like brother and sister, and it's just that she… Well, she gets a little over-protective. She's not used to me not spending all my time with her."

When Lily's eyes flashed, he realized the last sentence wasn't the right thing to say. "Oh, so you're so used to being _joined at the hip_ with her, then? _Inseparable_." she asked in a dangerously calm and sweet voice. He hated it when she was like this, so unlike her usual gentle and reasonable self.

"Please, I told you I don't feel that way about her and she doesn't feel that way about me. It's just that we've known each other since we were really young…" He fished in his mind for an example she would understand, that she wouldn't take in the wrong way, as she seemed to with everything he said about Tori. "It would be like the revered mother here suddenly not having time to talk to you, to listen to your concerns. You'd be upset too, right?"

Lily's lips pressed together tightly, "That's silly. I would understand that I'm not her only focus in life," she said unhappily, and he knew he was calming her down by the lack of fire in her words. She was a feisty girl when she was angry, and while he loved it, it could also get frustrating when it was aimed at him or his best friend.

Jowan gave her a weak smile, "Yes, well Tori can be a bit thick-headed sometimes."

He gave a quiet sigh of relief when Lily dropped her arms to her sides and turned her head to give him that pretty, sparkling smile that had so captured him when he first saw her. "It's good to hear you say something about her besides just praising her," she admitted with a slightly guilty bite of her lip.

The apprentice smiled sheepishly, knowing he was likely the cause of Lily's jealousy. He _did_ have a tendency to talk about Tori a lot, about her successes with magic and her high scores on their exams, how she was always helping him and nearly everyone liked her… He could understand why people often got the wrong idea about the two of them. He'd have to be more careful about what he said about his friend when in Lily's presence, though it seemed that the situation was diffused. _At least for now_.

The way she was biting her lip made him suddenly crave to taste them, and he cast a wary glance around them to be sure they were truly alone before he quickly leaned forward to press his lips to hers. Her hands darted forward to run along his chest, and when he pulled away her brown-green eyes were shining and her cheeks were pink and it took all the restraint he had not to capture her mouth with his again. They had to be careful with their affections, especially in a place as frequently visited as the Chantry; there would surely be trouble if their love was discovered.

As they straightened and tried to look as if nothing had passed between them, Lily furtively reached one hand into his lap and squeezed his hands tenderly for a second before pulling away and standing as someone entered the room. "The Chant of the Light can be difficult to understand sometimes, but the more you study it the more you'll learn," Lily said in a distant, instructing voice. She met his gaze and held it, and with her next words – full of hidden meaning – he knew the problem had been resolved. "It was hard for me, at first, but now I understand all the ways I was wrong before."

Jowan smiled as he left the Chantry, his head full of loving thoughts for the girl who had captured his heart.

. . . . .

"She doesn't like me."

Tori was frowning, glaring out the barred window at the end of the table she and Jowan were eating at. Jowan groaned and buried his face in his hands. _Will these women ever let me relax?_ He peeked out from between his fingers at his friend across the table from him, "You called her a _hussy_, Tori, what do you expect?" He said in as stern a voice he could manage. It wasn't very stern.

She sniffed and tugged on one of her pigtails, her beef stew forgotten in front of her, "Well her robes _were_ rather tight, if you ask me" she muttered, then gave her friend a wicked look that was masked with a sweet face and voice. "And didn't she give it up to you only, what? Six days after she met you?" When Jowan's face turned red and he sputtered, she grinned in triumph. "So how am I supposed to know she's not a hussy?"

Now Jowan recovered from his initial shock that Tori would bring up such a thing (and that she was actually _defending_ her earlier insult) and dropped his hands from his face, leveling her with an angry look, far angrier than she had ever seen him before. "Stop it," he asserted, his voice hard, "You're acting like a child."

Tori stared at him with wide eyes, stunned at the way he was acting. Since when did Jowan start… well, standing up for himself? She scowled at him, meeting his anger with her own, "Look who's talking!" she snapped, ignoring the fact that the other apprentices at the tables around them were starting to stare.

Jowan stood so fast that his chair clattered to the floor, his dark eyes burning into hers, "I'm not going to stand by while you insult her," he practically growled, "What in the Fade do you have so against her, anyways?"

The teenage girl avoided his eyes, instead glaring at some of their peers who were watching them, "I thought I told you already, I think she's a hus—" she stopped in surprise as her best friend turned and walked away, leaving her watching his retreating back with wide eyes and a quickly growing feeling of embarrassment and shock. He had never just left before. He had never stood up to her in such anger before, not even when they were kids and he was annoyed with her.

Jowan was growing a backbone, it seemed… but where was he getting it?


	4. Welcome to the Circle

**Welcome to the Circle**

_"Away she hurried, not beautiful, not supremely brilliant, but filled with something that took the place of both qualities - something best described as a profound vivacity, a continual and sincere response to all that she encountered in her path through life."_

_-E.M. Forster, Howard's End_

**Summary:** Cullen's first week at the Circle doesn't turn out as he expects... But there's a bright light amidst darkness, even here.

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><p>Cullen didn't consider himself an easily excitable man (and even though he was fifteen he called himself a <em>man<em>, no matter how much his peers said he was a boy), but now, sitting in the boat behind Ser Ferrick, he can't help but fidget. He is excited, yes, with the prospect of proving himself worthy of his new position, but he is also nervous. He has heard many tales – many, _many_ tales – of the horrors mages are capable of, even under the careful watch of the Templars, and the idea of going into a tower full of mages makes his palms sweat.

Ser Carroll is beside him, and even though the Templar is only three years older than him he sure acts as if he _thinks_ he's a lot older and smarter as well. "Oh, and sometimes they'll throw food around in the dining hall, but you've just gotta show 'em whose boss and they'll pipe down. I taught 'em a few lessons myself just last week," the blonde puffs up his chest and hooks his thumbs in his belt and tries to look suave, but really ends up just looking as if he's been drugged. Cullen would laugh, but Ser Carroll is to be his guide for the first week while he gets used to the Tower, and until he's learned the place and the routines he _needs_ this idiot. So he keeps his mouth shut.

Ser Ferrick, however, does not have any qualms about turning from where he had been speaking to Kester the boatmaster and laughing right in Carroll's face, "Oh you sure showed _them_, trying to act all stern and motherly and getting a face-full of spinach and beans for it."

Ser Carroll's mouth twists and he glances sidelong at Cullen, who keeps his face carefully neutral, before glaring at Ferrick, "Yeah, well that blighter got what was coming to him in the end, didn't he?" he snaps back. The blonde takes a deep breath and turns to nod in what he probably assumes is a professional manner at Cullen, "Watch out for that damn _Anders_, he'll make your life a living hell." He smirks then, "Though you won't have to worry about 'im for your first week, the Knight-Commander had 'im thrown in the dungeons for a fortnight for what 'e did. Teach him a little _lesson_."

Cullen doesn't like the glint in Ser Carroll's eyes, so he turns and looks back at the Circle Tower looming out of the fog ahead of them. It's an eerie place, he thinks, with only a few – barred – windows and a sharp spire at the top, and sitting on a small island like it is. It's unnatural.

But it's going to be his home, now, and so he tries to get used to it. It's hard.

The rest of the boat ride is silent save for Ser Ferrick asking Kester about the weather lately, and the sound of the oars making slight splishing noises when they dip almost smoothly into the water. Cullen watches the surface of the lake, smooth like glass except for the small ripples slowly rolling outward, going and going until he can no longer see them through the haze. With the fog so thick the water looks pale gray, and though it's not actually that cold out, the chill of the vapor sucks into his throat and creeps into his armor and makes him shiver.

He's very proud of his armor. It was given to him personally by Knight-Commander Greagoir, who had taken a liking to him when he visited the newest-made Templars, after he had taken his oath and drunk his first vial of lyrium and become a _true_ Templar.

Lyrium. It's a bittersweet emotion he feels towards it; on the one hand he knows what it can do to people and he knows it's addictive and has all sorts of potential side-effects, but on the other hand, without it he couldn't _be_ a Templar. There's nothing else for him in his life but the Order, so… so he drank the strange blue potions that tasted like stardust, if stardust were to have a taste. And anyways, he would be a Templar until the day he died, so he wouldn't have to worry about lyrium withdrawals or becoming addicted, because the Chantry was a reliable source of it and what was the problem with being addicted to something if you would always have it?

It wasn't _that_ long of a boat ride to the island, but the whole way Cullen was lost in thought. Thinking of the Tower, of what awaited him, of what he might expect and what might surprise him. He hoped his Templar brothers there were friendly – or at the very least, respectable – because he didn't think he could stand to be around magic-ridden people all day, every day without support. Or, that is, he _could_ stand it, if it was his duty, but it would be highly unpleasant.

At the very least, Ser Ferrick would be staying at the Tower for a few months until he was given his next deployment orders, and he and Cullen had formed a friendship of sorts during the time the older Templar had taken over his brief field training. Ferrick was a kind and patient man, even if he could get a bit cruel when he was teasing, and Cullen looked up to him as an example of what a good Templar should be.

When the boat lurched slightly, Cullen was jerked out of his thoughts and into the present as Ser Ferrick stood up and announced with a wave to the shadowy structure before them, "Welcome to Kinloch Hold."

. . . . .

Cullen's first day in the Circle was a nightmare.

As he walked through the halls beside Ser Carroll, the mages that bothered to look at him (he could tell which ones were mages because they wore robes and he could feel… almost _smell_ the magic on them) clearly did not recognize his face because they either broke into whispers with those nearest to them or stared. At first the whispers made him uncomfortable, but as time wore on he began to grow more anxious over the looks. Most were simply the looks of those who were curious but closed-off, but some… some were like the eyes of a wolf when it spots a newly injured caribou in the herd. They seemed to look at him and call out to the other mages _fresh meat!_

He made sure to stick close to Carroll as the older man showed him the study rooms, the library, the various levels of mages' dormitories, and the dining hall. But the dining hall is where it all began to go downhill.

When they stepped in, a group of young apprentices (ages varying from ten to fifteen, it looked like) immediately spotted Carroll. It was like watching a pack of hyenas closing in on their prey as they all turned towards him, giggling with beady, wicked eyes.

"Hey Beans!" One of the older male apprentices called out, waving to the Templar and lifting up a spoonful of beans for Carroll to see, "They've served your favorite food again!"

Another apprentice gestured to the seat beside him, "Come and sit with us, Beans, you can even bring your best friend there. Is his name Spinach, by any chance?"

Ser Carroll tried to ignore them, but then one of the older girls let out a giggle and took a bite of her own beans, letting out a loud moan of pleasure that was clearly meant to have sexual implications. "Mmm, I just _love_ having _Beans_ hot and steaming in my mouth," she called through her mouthful.

Cullen's own face went beet-red at the girl's words, but Carroll's eyes looked like they would pop out of his head before he let out a sputtering cough and turned away from the mages, his face turning an alarming shade of purple. Cullen looked around for another Templar to come to their rescue, but strangely enough none were to be found in the dining hall (which explained the mages' lack of respect).

Carroll didn't say a word as he dashed out of the hall, and Cullen had turned to follow when suddenly there was a _splat!_ And then the feeling of something warm and slimy on the back of his head, in his hair, and dripping down his neck. He froze, and the raucous sound of cruel laughter hit his ears.

"Sorry we didn't have any of your vegetable, Spinach, but we figured you might like having some of Beans' hot mess dripping all over you!" the oldest apprentice said between laughs in a horribly unpleasant voice, and his table exploded with renewed laughter.

He couldn't move, even as the sticky mess—_oh dear Maker, don't call it _that!—began to slide under his armor and soak into his shirt, and his _entire_ neck and head turned an embarrassed, horrified red. And just then, the door to the dining hall opened and Ser Finnick stepped in, causing the apprentices to immediately go silent and act as if nothing had happened.

"Ser Cullen, you look like a tomato," he commented wryly as he dropped into a chair at one of the tables near the door, reserved for Templars. From that angle, he couldn't see the back of Cullen's head.

Cullen stuttered and lost his words for a moment before he managed to get out, "J-just a bit warm, ser, I-I'll be heading to the d-dormitories now." And with that, he's out of the dining hall and rushing through the Tower trying to remember how exactly to get to the Templars' sleeping quarters from there. He doesn't know why he didn't tell the other man what happened – perhaps injured pride – but all he _does_ know now is that if there's one thing he can be sure of it's this: mages are cruel, horrible people.

. . . . .

After he washes the food off of his head and regains some of his lost dignity, Cullen finds Ser Carroll (in the Chantry babbling to one of the initiates there that mages are wicked people and should never be trusted with _food_) and manages to get through the rest of the Tower tour without telling his guide what happened after he'd left. If he'd had it _his_ way, Cullen would have assured that _no one_ find out about the incident.

But, of course, the magelings had other plans.

They came up with the idea that 'Spinach' and 'Beans' were secretly lovers, two vegetables that longed to be together though circumstance tore them apart. The little monsters began spreading the story among the other apprentices (with the utmost discretion to make sure no Templars caught wind of it) until everywhere Cullen went he would hear whispers of "did you have a good time with Beans last night?" or "don't ever let your Spinachy love die" or "Beans and Spinach kissing in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G…"

It got to the point where any time Cullen would see an apprentice he would wince and try to avoid them, but they somehow learned all of his posts and patrols in the Tower and always showed up no matter where was. It was a sneaky, conniving game of 'taunt the Templar,' as they managed to constantly hound him while keeping out of the notice of the other Templars, the ones that would do anything about it.

To put it simply, Cullen was going insane. He was quickly regretting that he had ever been posted to such a horrible place (and was starting to suspect that perhaps the stories people told of the bad things about lyrium were really stories of people who had had to live around mages).

After a week of this, Cullen met her.

He had been standing at his post outside the practice rooms, trying to ignore the strange crawling feeling he always got under his skin when someone nearby was doing magic, when a mages' apprentice came out of one of the rooms with a grin on her face and a flush in her cheeks. She was short, and was definitely younger than him, though he couldn't discern how much so, with sleek black hair kept in small pigtails. When she turned her gaze on him and stopped walking, he noticed that her eyes were the exact same color of chocolate, and that they were very large, like doe-eyes – and with the same sort of ethereal innocence about them. She was in the stage of development between young girl and teenage girl, and he found the graceful awkwardness to be endearing.

He noticed this all in the time it took her to stop walking and come up to him. After a moment he realized that she was an apprentice, and therefore there was a 99.9% chance she was going to taunt him, and he was already flinching away when she smiled brightly at him, "You must be…" _Spinach?_ He finished for her, in his mind, miserably. "The new Templar."

He was too stunned to reply, but she didn't seem to mind, already with more words on her tongue, "I'm Tori, I'm one of the apprentices here," she explained, and he wondered how he hadn't run into her before now, considering that the Tower wasn't _that_ large of a place.

His tongue is tied, and as he feels a blush rising in his cheeks he desperately struggles to find words to say to her so she doesn't think he's ignoring her or crazy. She's the first magic user who has been friendly towards him (even the full mages and enchanters had been distant and uncaring – he was just another Templar, and was therefore not worth their time), and he doesn't want to ruin that.

But just as he's opening his mouth to speak, the practice room she had emerged from spits out another apprentice, a tall, lanky boy with shoulder-length black hair that looks a little singed on the ends. His face is drawn in a scowl as he stalks up behind Tori and elbows her in the ribs, drawing a sharp yelp and a glare from her. "You almost set my entire head on fi—"

Cullen, unsure what to do, begins to step forward to intervene if there is going to be a fight, and that seems to draw the boy's attention, stopping him midsentence. "Hey, look, it's _Spinach_!" he says in a delighted voice. Cullen has to resist the urge to either crawl into a hole and hide or throttle the apprentice.

Tori looked between the boy and the Templar before her mouth fell open, "Oh no, _you're_ the one they've been calling Spinach?" she asks in a voice that sounds vaguely horrified. He can't speak again, but this time it's related to the fact that he's so embarrassed and upset that his face is turning bright red.

The other boy nods, "Oh he sure is, Jarvey pointed him out to me the other day. Also told me to tell you, Spinach, that Beans has been making doe-eyes at other vegetables and you might want to keep an eye out for unfaithfulness."

Tori's eyebrows pull down into one of the fiercest glares Cullen has ever seen (and having grown up with the stern Revered Mother Elise, he's seen a _lot_ of glares) and she turns and pushes the boy so hard he nearly falls over, having been caught off-guard. "Don't _you_ dare join in on that!" she reproaches, her voice as hard as the stone beneath their feet and full of disgust, "I thought you knew better, Jowan!"

Jowan raises his eyebrows at her in surprise, but there's a hint of guilt in his expression as he frowns, "But Jarvey—"

"You know what I'm going to say to that," she counters immediately, as if she knew what he was going to say even before he did. Her arms are folded across her starting-to-develop-chest-not-that-Cullen-was-looking-or-anything and her brown eyes are narrowed and she looks so intimidating that even _Cullen_ feels a little apprehensive of her. He would feel sorry for this Jowan fellow except he remembers that he called him 'Spinach,' and while he's forgiving, he's not _that_ forgiving.

Jowan seems to shrink before her and his voice takes on a whining note, "I'm _sorry_, Tori, I just thought it was a bit of fun, I didn't mean anything by it."

She deflates and sighs, "I know. Go on to dinner, I'll catch up in a minute," she says, and he listens as well as a trained hound. Once her friend is gone, she turns back to Cullen, grimacing, "I'm sorry about that…" she trails off, frowning into space. In an instant the frown is gone and she's giving Cullen a sheepish smile, "Don't worry about that whole… thing. It'll blow over eventually, these things always do. Jarvey's just an ass, and since you're new he figures you won't stand up for yourself. Just ignore them and it'll go away."

Cullen's ears feel red-hot, and he's suddenly aware that his armor is a little too big for him and he hasn't had a haircut in a couple months and he hopes she doesn't notice, and he finds himself stuttering as he tries to reply, tries to express his gratitude for the kindness she's shown him. "Th-thank y-you, ah, Ap-prentice T-tori," he finally manages to get out, and the smile she gives him in return makes his heart skip a beat.

"It's just Tori," she corrected with a grin, "And you don't have to thank me, I didn't do a thing. Just don't let them get to you, um… I don't think you told me your name."

She actually wants to know his _name_? He can't quite express why that makes him want to smile and cheer, but it does. "Cullen." He keeps it simple so that he doesn't stutter and ruin it.

"It's nice to meet you, Cullen," Tori said with another bright smile and a polite nod. "Well I'm off to dinner, Jowan's waiting for me. I suppose I'll see you some other time." That's funny to her for some reason, because she laughs and shakes her head before she waves and turns away walking down the hall with light steps that remind Cullen of a fairy, or a well-bred horse.

As he resumes his duty of watching the hall, all he can think is that there's one mage, at least, who is a good person. And that she has very pretty eyes.


	5. Friendship

**Friendship**

_"Life is very short and there's no time, for fussing and fighting my friend."_

_-The Beatles, We Can Work it Out_

**Summary:** True friendship is not something that is so easily lost. Tori comes to apologize to Jowan for an earlier fight.

* * *

><p>When Tori finds Jowan, he is slumped asleep over an open book in the library. She doesn't want to wake him because she knows that he'd been having nightmares lately (she could hear his tortured murmurs easily since their beds were beside each other), and even though they hadn't been speaking for the last few days, since they had had the argument about Lily, she'd noticed the circles under his eyes and she felt bad for him. Because no matter how irritated she might be with him over his new (<em>hussy<em>) girlfriend, he's still her very best friend and like a brother and she cares about him and she _missed_ him.

She sits silently in the chair beside him and cradles her chin in her palm, gazing about the library. There are only a couple of young apprentices in the corner, talking in hushed whispers, and a few mages sitting at various tables and reading. At one end of the library is a helmed Templar, and at the other is Cullen with his head bare. When her gaze lands on him his eyes dart away rapidly, as if he had been looking at her, and she finds it hard to repress a smile. He was a sweet boy, that Templar, and she finds it a shame that he's trapped in the Tower as surely as the mages are; she can't help but think he could be doing so much more out in the world if he weren't a Templar, so much _good_.

Toriana sighed and reached for one of the books lying on the table in front of Jowan, flipping it over to the front page. _Maleficarum_ by Ser Bradley Penner. She lifted an eyebrow at her sleeping friend, _what's he doing reading a book that's reserved for the advanced lectures?_ She looked at the other books he had stacked in front of him. _The Dangers of Blood Magic, The Demons in the Blood, A Study of the Restricted Schools of Magic, _and the one he had fallen asleep reading: _Resisting Temptation_.

Now she frowned. What did he think he was doing, setting all these books on blood magic out before him like that? He'd bring the attentions of the Templars on him if any of them noticed! Scowling, she gathered all of the books except the one under his elbow into her arms and went to return them to their places on the shelves. She knew Jowan could be a dolt at times, but what the hell was he playing at, tempting fate like that?

After her arms were empty of books she returned to the table with one of the books she had seen that had looked interesting. As she curled up in her chair and waited for her friend to awake, she read idly, her attention wandering and her gaze occasionally travelling about the library. As breakfast drew nearer, the mages began filtering out until it was only she, Jowan, and the two Templars remaining.

A change in his breathing pattern alerted Tori that Jowan was awake. He sat up, rubbing at his eyes tiredly, and nearly fell out of his chair when he noticed she was sitting beside him. "Hey," she said softly, giving him a small smile that was lopsided from her resting her jaw on her hand.

Jowan frowned at her and she sighed, dropping her arm and giving him a somber look, "I'm sorry," she murmured, fidgeting nervously with the pages of her book. He had been so angry when they had last talked, she was scared he would speak harshly to her again and she didn't know if she could stand that – the idea of losing their friendship over her stupid, thoughtless words seemed ridiculous. "I shouldn't have said what I did," she admitted, grimacing, "I was being an idiot."

He seemed surprised at that, but quickly recovered and gave her a gentle smile, "Maybe a little," he said with just a hint of a tease before he sobered and reached out to flick the tip of her nose the way he had done since they were kids, "Apology accepted. I've missed you, idiot or no."

Tori gave Jowan a weak grin, so relieved that their friendship was mended that it quickly turned to a huge ear-to-ear smile, and jumped suddenly from her chair to engulf him in a bear hug, "I missed you too. I haven't had anyone's hair to set on fire the last few days," she said in mock sadness as she pulled away, rewarded when he scoffed and gave her a friendly shove that left her laughing.

As the two continued to talk and laugh, the heaviness between them gone as if it had never happened, Jowan caught Cullen watching (though the Templar quickly averted his eyes when he saw Jowan noticed him) and leaned over to whisper in Tori's ear, "That Templar's been eying you an awful lot lately."

Tori's eyes widened and she looked at the Templar in question, her cheeks turning pink, before she turned and swatted at her friend, "He has _not_! And anyways, it's his _job_ to watch us, you know." She rolled her eyes and quickly tried to switch the subject to the book she was reading, but Jowan would have none of it.

"Really? Because _I_ heard that he was reprimanded only a few weeks ago by Greagoir for having an 'ill-advised infatuation' for an apprentice." He cackled delightedly when Tori gave a startled squeak and buried her face in her hands to hide her rapidly flushing skin (okay, so he still held the _tiniest_ of grudges over her calling his love a _hussy_ and was enjoying her look of horrified embarrassment, so what?). "You ought to watch yourself from now on, try not to get caught in the halls alone at night… Never know what a _sex-starved_ Templar might do to a _defenseless _mage." He grinned and nudged her with his elbow, warranting another squeak from her.

She peeked out between her fingers at him, "That's ridiculous! Cullen would _never_… What you're _insinuating_ is just… Oh, _dear Maker_, Jowan!"

Her voice rose in both pitch and volume without realizing it until both of the Templars were looking at them and Cullen took a hesitant step forward and called out, "I-is there a pr-problem over there?"

Jowan gave him a smile and a wave and spoke in a too-cheery voice, "Oh, none at all, just discussing _sexual_ matters and Tori here gets a little shy, don't you, Tori?"

Both Cullen and Tori's faces turned bright red and he gave a strangled, embarrassed cough before nodding wordlessly and turning away. Tori buried her head under her arms and Jowan couldn't help the laugh that exploded from him, warranting a stern look from the helmed Templar that he could feel boring into his head.

She mumbled something from under her arms and Jowan leaned closer, grinning, "What was that, Tori dear?" he asked in a singsong voice, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Tori pushed herself to her feet and grabbed the sleeve of Jowan's robes, tugging him roughly behind her as she made her escape from the library (through the door _opposite_ the side Cullen was one) to head towards the dining hall, face still red and casting a frustrated look back at the laughing boy behind her.

"I _said_ that you're _lucky_ you're my best friend or I would _kill_ you right now."


End file.
